Saint:My Daily Routine Became My Superpower

June 25th. 12:17 AM.

The first explosion came from the west wing.

No warning.

No siren.

Just flame.

One moment the dorm stood silent —

The next, half of it was gone.

Blown apart like it had been made of paper and hate.

Concrete cracked.

Steel twisted.

Screams tore through the night like sirens.

Then came the second explosion.

Then the third.

By the time I made it to the window, the courtyard was on fire.

---

Students were running — some barefoot, some bleeding.

Others didn't make it that far.

A girl — tall, silver hair, probably from one of the overseas exchange programs —

was floating six feet above the fountain.

Eyes blank.

Arms stretched outward.

Her skin was glowing like embers under pressure.

And then — she burst.

No metaphor.

She literally exploded.

A pulse of red light erupted from her chest —

the shockwave snapped trees and sent five students flying like broken dolls.

One hit the dorm wall headfirst.

Didn't move again.

---

I ran.

Not because I was scared.

Because I knew this wasn't just panic.

It was execution.

Whoever — whatever — was behind this wasn't just showing power.

It was cleansing.

---

On the main road, a fire truck had flipped over.

Smoke poured from the cracks in the asphalt.

Streetlamps flickered, then ripped from the ground like they were allergic to gravity.

One of them flew sideways into a parked van — metal crunched like paper, glass rained down like dust.

Screams echoed.

Gunshots followed.

Then nothing.

---

The blinking sky was now wide open.

A vertical slit ran through the clouds like an eye without a pupil.

Through it: not stars.

But structures.

Dark towers suspended in nothing.

Massive chains running between floating islands.

A second world.

Above ours.

And it was leaking into this one.

---

I passed a body — a boy named Tyran.

Face frozen.

Jaw broken sideways like he tried to scream but time didn't allow it.

Someone knelt beside him.

Not to help.

To collect something.

A woman in all black. Long white hair. Eyes covered by a veil.

She leaned down, placed her hand on his chest —

and pulled something out.

A thread of light.

Pale blue. Struggling like it was alive.

He twitched.

Then turned to ash.

---

Above us, more figures descended.

Winged.

Robe-cloaked.

No faces.

Just masks — bone-white, eyeless.

They didn't speak.

They didn't move like humans.

They glided.

Each carried a curved blade that shimmered like mirrors made of blood.

Wherever they went, buildings collapsed.

One slashed a guard tower —

and it folded in on itself, swallowed by a hole of light.

---

I dove into the art block.

It was burning from the inside, canvas ash in the air like snow.

Someone grabbed me — a girl, panting, bleeding, dressed in a track uniform.

"What are they?!" she screamed.

"I didn't do anything! I swear, I didn't—"

Something grabbed her mid-sentence.

A tendril.

Black. Veined. It came from the ceiling like a noose made of smoke.

It yanked her up.

I heard the bones snap.

Then she was gone.

---

I made it to the old prayer building.

Inside, a few were hiding.

A guy from Russia — Nikolai — was bleeding from his eye.

A girl named Ishani sobbed in the corner, holding someone's severed arm.

The room shook.

We heard something massive land outside.

And then—

Boom.

The wall exploded inward.

Dust. Shards. Fire.

I didn't see what came through.

Only that it was tall.

Seven feet? Eight? Maybe more.

Its body was smooth and black like oil, with dozens of spines along its back.

And its face was… nothing.

Just teeth.

A hundred of them.

Always smiling.

It reached for Nikolai.

I ran.

---

Outside, it was a different world.

The campus was a war zone.

Bodies on the ground.

People sobbing, praying, calling family.

Phones weren't working anymore.

The signal was gone.

The sky above cracked again.

And through the split — something massive leaned forward.

Not a creature.

A head.

So large it eclipsed the moon.

Skin like scorched stone.

A single glowing line where its eye should be.

It looked down.

And the temperature dropped to zero in seconds.

Students froze where they stood.

Their skin turned blue.

Eyes shattered like glass.

The cold didn't burn.

It erased.

---

I dropped to my knees behind a flipped table.

My hands were shaking.

My breath fogged the air.

Somewhere inside me, something whispered again:

> "You are not chosen yet."

And then —

A light pulsed in my chest.

A burn.

Like something waking up inside me.

---

> Next: Chapter 16 – The First Brand